Jul 26, 2019
Hope is a muscle. I read this on my friend Susie’s story earlier today. This kind of quote is one that I’ve come to have a sort of distaste for, at times. But, I guess the truth in this statement caught me at the right moment.
We took ourselves to this gentle place yesterday morning after we both had a particularly difficult day, the day before. My grief felt heavy and confusing, the darkest I’ve felt yet, and Gordon admitted that he sorta wanted to disappear. He too was feeling somewhat hopeless and tired.
Even sitting there in all that beauty the following morning, stretching my painful and tight arms (2 weeks post surgery), I still felt under the weight of my sadness. I’ve been saying over and over, I have so much to be thankful for... Why am I sad?! Just look at all the beauty around! People and surroundings and blessings.
Not one of us has a manual teaching us how to get through life’s times and no two of us need the same things. I’m learning what I need as I go, and sometimes to try something familiar only to have it leave you disoriented is frustrating.
I tried socializing and didn’t feel ready and that bummed me out. Then I isolated and felt lonely. Then I cried, a lot, on the phone when the nurse from Oscar called to check on me. Uhh! The nurse listened and soothed and nudged. She asked me to text a few friends. I did, and I talked to a few too, and I don’t think those things fixed much but I’m happy that I’m feeling a bit better today than I was yesterday.
I have a lot to be thankful for and I am thankful. I see so much light. I too ache. Gratitude is often prescribed as a balm for grief but it’s not like one stomps out the other. We clap at grief with positives, but it’s not odd to still hurt.
After a lot of days in bed, I’m happy we reset with those calm waters. I’m remembering to think smaller. Small like the taste of that perfectly ripe melon we snagged from the farm stand on our way home. Small like the comfort/discomfort of sleeping on my side after 13 nights on my back. Small like the pleasure of cooking food and sharing it with G. Small like the flicker of having something strike you as true- it’s good to stretch your muscles!